


The Gingerbread Bimbo

by TowardsZero



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Vore, crumch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TowardsZero/pseuds/TowardsZero
Summary: A butchery.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	The Gingerbread Bimbo

"Thank you sooo so much for helping me out, Mr. Fox! Like, seriously, I'd be dead right now if not for you."

The gingerbread woman sat with her legs spread wide, straddling the fox's back as her brittle fingers gripped his deep ginger fur. The river's current splashed moderately against his right side and just barely spared the sentient cookie from getting soggy.

"Really, it's no problem."

The fox had been prowling through the oranged autumn woods when he initially caught sight of the runaway gingerbread woman, looking like she was energized by her own smarminess which had just begun to dwindle. She likely would've been sweating heavily if she had the glands for it. A thin layer of dyed frosting gave the impression of a skirt wrapping tightly around her curves, short enough to leave the lowermost ends of her rigid asscheeks perpetually hanging out. A thicker layer of dark frosting spread over her nape and back emulated hair, though the illusion broke under the slightest scrutiny of its physics, or lack thereof. The fox's experience with baking was practically nonexistent, limited to stealing goods from windows left open, but even he could tell this particular cookie was unusually three-dimensional. Questioning her about it was a frustrating experience and thinking about it made paddling through the stream unnecessarily difficult.

"You're a cookie, right?"

"Yep!"

"As in, you were cooked in an oven?"

"Mhm."

"So shouldn't you be... I don't know, flatter?"

"What do you mean?"

"Cookies are flat, aren't they?"

That question left her reeling, covering her cleavage (which was ample to such an extent it was difficult to _not_ stare down when talking to her) with insecurity. "N-no! No!"

He changed the subject for as long as was needed then rephrased the question, then tried again and again. Never did he get any closer to finding an answer. The most infuriating part to him was how his surface-level baking knowledge left him unable to be any more specific. Cookies are puffy and flat, and let this one was shaped as human as was possible for literal food. If the powers that be put him into the body of a jolly, overweight baker, then he knew for a fact he'd find a way to see through her existence. Alas, he was stuck in the body of a natural hunter without opposable thumbs.

"Heeey, Mr. Fox, you're swimming real slowly! I thought doggies were supposed to be good swimmers. Someone will catch us!"

His conscious focus was thrown back into reality, where her rear bounced up and down on his back impatiently. The current had pushed him a further distance sideways than he had traveled forward.

"Oh, uh... sorry." Feeling her butt bumping around directly on his spine achieved the opposite of its intended effect and put him back with his own thoughts. The gingerbread woman was fucking _hot_. Not freshly-baked hot, the wind had cooled her off long ago, but the fox's instincts were telling him that he should have his cock shoved inside the cookie down to the knot. He wasn't usually the type to appreciate a biped's beauty. He'd seen human girls from a distance and was on good terms with fairies of the woods and none of them had done what the sight of the gingerbread woman's (no longer) doughy pair of thighs did.

On the subject of his knot, the flowing rapids had been incessantly sloshing around it from the moment he submerged himself in them. Nature's assault on his twitching red length was more effective at slowing him down than his distracted thinking could ever be.

Once again, he had to be reminded of his task by the gingerbread woman. A punch with all the force possible from an arm of foodstuff did the trick. "C'mon, Fox! Move your paws faster!"

He let out a groan and paddled quicker at her request. In all fairness, he wasn't making much progress. The quicker he swam, the sooner he'd be able to finish his plan and his snack, and listening to her babble was grating. The only point making her shrill, distinctly American tone tolerable was that she'd not leave the river able to speak. Her fate was set in stone.

"The river gets a little deeper here. You'll have to ride on my neck to keep yourself from getting wet."

"Are you suuure I won't get wet?"

"Entirely sure."

On a second thought, the fox was unsure if he really should go through with this. His raging boner, pointing down towards the rocks at the bottom of the water body, was starting to get to him. If he carried this cookie to the other end safely as she was expecting, could he coerce her into spreading her legs? She didn't seem like a difficult lay. Maybe she'd be so grateful she'd lift her sugary skirt right there. If it _did_ reach that point, would it even be possible to sheath his length inside her? Going off all he knew about the malleability of gingerbread and the feeling of her shapely legs shuffling through his coat of fur, all rational thought made it seem unlikely. But he wasn't thinking rationally. He was thinking with his dick.

After his tongue lolled out and flicked over his lips, he asked: "Do you know why you were baked?"

"To be eaten, prob'ly."

The fox thoughtfully grunted. "Who baked you? Do you remember?"

"Uhhh... not really. I've been running for a while."

"And how long is that?"

She shrugged. "Three hours?"

As he thought, she was useless. "Was he male? Did he look particularly unattractive or lonely?"

She looked towards the sky and scanned her memories with a droning "uhh". Closer to his ears, her hum was exceptionally annoying.

"Never- never mind! The river gets deeper again. Climb up onto my head. Hurry!"

The gingerbread woman obeyed promptly and slid herself up the ramp of his neck until she sat with her legs spread eagle behind his ears and dangling off either side of his noggin. The closer to his nose she drew, the more positively overwhelming her _scent_ became. The pheromones she was giving off were strong, sweet and delicious. The fact that the only thing on his cock was the flowing rapids was driving him to desperation, his hips involuntarily jolting down. He wasn't a very stable boat.

"Calm- calm down, Mr. Fox! I'm gonna fall off!"

She was right.

"No, it's just... the deepest part of the river's coming up. You'll have to sit on my nose. Stay stable!"

"Okay..."

His brown eyes crossed and gazed directly up her skirt as her delicious round rump passed over them. Whoever made her didn't bother spreading her a pair of underwear, not even something sultry like a thong. Slowly, his nose lifted up and he felt as she shakily sat herself down on the highest point of his body, lifting her legs up high above the splashing waves.

Moment of truth.

The fox opened his muzzle and raised his slim tongue as far as it could reach, its length brushing against both the front and back ends of her frosted skirt. With his tongue laid along the curve of her pelvis, he dragged his tongue subtly, soaking her with saliva and scrutinizing the two hard bumps of her labia. Just as he was expecting but hoping against, his cock wasn't a smart thinker. There was nothing to work with. Her pussy lips were entirely immalleable and there was no hole to buck into between them. If he ferried her to the other end in one piece, at most she'd be able to jack him off with her crumbly, less than pleasant hands. At the very least, she seemed to enjoy his inspection, squirming and giggling as his tongue ran over her useless genitals.

"What are you doing, Mr. Fox?"

The little taste test wasn't all bad news, fortunately. Whoever baked her not only knew what they were doing design-wise, but also in the field of taste. In a moment of clarity, the fox realized he was mistaking hungry for horny... again. He was in a better position to satisfy the former than the latter. He withdrew his tongue and swiftly lunged upwards with his mouth wide open. The cookie was accurately tossed in the direction he went and immediately fell back down into his maw with her legs folded against her torso. Before she had the chance to react, he forcefully crunched down.

The fox made it to the opposite side of the river without any further problems. He licked out the gingerbread stuck between his carnivorous teeth, shook off his sopping wet fur, then stretched his limbs. His hunger was satisfied, but he still had his throbbing red rocket to deal with. Since the thing that got him so excited in the first place was digesting, he was clueless as to what his move would be. Maybe he'd find a lonely fairy lounging on a toadstool or something? Meeting the snack put him in the mood for a humanoid partner that wasn't impossible to get inside. He strut into the forest, hoping he wouldn't have to burn his desires by humping a rock this time around.


End file.
